The majority of athletes have at least once seen a picture from that September afternoon in Seoul. Ben Johnson was in the middle of his stride, his arm raised in an early triumph, his jaw set his eyes already wandering toward the finish line before he had even crossed it. He appeared unbeatable. In retrospect, he appeared to be everything that sport aspires to be and everything that it occasionally secretly is.
The 100-meter final in Seoul in 1988 was meant to be a coronation. It was anticipated that Carl Lewis, the four-time gold medallist who would later be named Athlete of the 20th Century by the IOC, would win. The Olympic stadium audience was familiar with his tale.
The American press corps, who were positioned in the stands with laptops open and partially written feature articles, did the same. Pre-constructed narratives don’t matter to sport. Lewis and the rest of the world were left staring at the track after Johnson, a quiet Jamaican-Canadian with a devastating start and a physique that raised suspicions even before the results were confirmed, ran 9.79 seconds.
The events that ensued are well documented. Johnson’s stanozolol test came back positive. They took away his medal. He lost his world record. Canada, which had welcomed him with remarkable warmth during the few hours he had gold, turned on him with equal ferocity and sent him home in shame.
Watching that video now makes it difficult not to feel complicated. Not exactly sympathy, but a sense of unease about how morally sound the decision appeared to be at the time, considering later revelations about the larger doping culture that pervaded those Games.
Naturally, Lewis was proclaimed the victor. He continued to win gold and eventually had one of the most successful Olympic careers in any sport. There’s a feeling that Lewis never really got out of the shadow of that day either Richard Moore does a good job of capturing it in his account of those events. He was not as well-liked as his skill merited.
His manager made the well-known prediction that he would be as successful as Michael Jackson. These days, that comparison sounds almost comical. Lewis was remarkable, but in the eyes of those who followed him, he was never quite enough.
Something about the 100 meters that is hard to describe was distilled by the race itself. Nothing is needed. No bicycle, no pool no equipment. One task and a human body. Theoretically, this makes it the most sincere competition there is.
In reality, Seoul showed that people will attempt to cheat more fiercely the more basic the competition is. Ironically, the desire to be the fastest, even at the expense of everything else, seems to be mirrored in the cheating.
Johnson completely collapsed. Quick cars are repossessed. Contractors abandoned a partially constructed mansion. Lewis spent years pursuing acting roles and recording albums in his mother’s basement. Johnson went on to compete in novelty races against racehorses, which had a dismal conclusion that hardly seems plausible. It’s still unclear if he ever realized how much he had lost or if, on some level, he believed the race had just been taken from him.
When Usain Bolt finally showed up, the entire argument felt a little different. In Beijing, he celebrated prior to the conclusion. He performed a dance. He chuckled. He made nine seconds appear to be a joke that he was sharing with everyone. Bolt appeared to be unaffected by the gloom that enveloped Seoul. It’s worth considering whether that was because he was truly clean or because we were more inclined to show good faith at that point.
Carl Lewis was questioned about Bolt’s performances at a 2010 London Nike store opening. He hesitated. He remarked, “It’s just… interesting”. “I watch the results like everyone else and wait… for time to tell”. Nine careful words that sum up forty years of sport. There are races that never truly end.